


morning rituals

by Mithlomi



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, very very mild nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithlomi/pseuds/Mithlomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So in one of dragonflies_and_dalmatians fics, it’s mentioned that Constance helped d’Artagnan shave one morning and…</p><p>... well, you get the idea</p><p>Pointless drabble but have it anyway...</p>
            </blockquote>





	morning rituals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonflies_and_dalmatians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflies_and_dalmatians/gifts).



"Must you be up this early?"

He turns at the sound of her soft voice to find her leaning against the doorframe. She’s dressed only in a thin cotton shift, auburn locks still unbound, untidy from her bed, eyes half-lidded and glassy, smile lazy, still lost in the haze of sleep. She’s all warmth and soft curves right now and he can still remember the feel of her pressed against his skin. He grips tight to the blade in his hand and swallows tight before he nods, returning to the mirror.

"I have to report to the garrison early. Treville… oh…"

She’s suddenly beside him, bare feet silent on the cold floor, and she’s almost pressed up against him. Catching his gaze in the mirror, she gently covers his hand with her own, taking the blade from him and presses her lips to the steadily racing pulse at his neck. She moves, placing herself in between him and the bathroom mirror. A pulse of pure desire rushes through him as he realises what she is about to do, mischief playing at the corner of her lips, and he lets out a shaky breath as his hands fall to her hips.

"Stay still," she breathes.

Her fingers are steady as she raises the blade, presses it lightly to his rough skin. He tilts his head slightly, allowing her better access, inviting her in. She leans forward, and there’s a slight crease to her brow as she concentrates. Her hand is sure, dragging the blade across his skin in a perfectly smooth curve. Her smile grows, as if pleased with her work and it’s then he realises this is her first time.

He has to swallow down the rush of pride at the thought that she would never do this for her husband…

Her breath is warm against his neck, tempting, entincing. He has to force himself to keep perfectly still, keeping his grip on her waist light, lest the blade slip. It would not be her fault; she is in complete control, even with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she focuses on her task. God, does she have any idea what she does to him?

Maybe she does. Her eyes ficker upwards to meet his for a moment… and the smirk at the corner of her mouth is undenialbe. This time, as the razor passes over his skin, her lips follow…

He trembles, letting out a soft moan… that’s followed by a hiss through gritted teeth as the blade nicks his skin. She pulls away to assess the damage only to chuckle, low in her throat. “What did I say?”

He’s stripped her of the knife before she can even think. His hands grasp at her thighs, rucking up her dress until he meets the soft flesh and her fingers press tight against his back as he lifts her, his solid, trembling form holding her against the wall. She gasps as her head falls back as his wandering lips find her neck, her collarbone, graze the top of her breasts. It’s hot and fumbling and wild but he cries out her name as she whispers his against his smooth-shaven cheek…

After, as his arms ache and her legs feel weak, her fingers graze lightly over a patch of stubble at his jaw. He feels her grin against his neck. “I missed a spot…”


End file.
